


R

by theparanoidwriter



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M, This is probably really OOC, author is a sadistic bish, snk gorey demise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 07:28:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2059275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theparanoidwriter/pseuds/theparanoidwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>IMPORTANT: Beating cw, guilt cw, death cw,chains, torture, blood, wounds, infection cw, nightmares cw.</p><p> </p><p>“Very well then. You leave me no choice.”</p><p>His body tensed just a second as he heard the crack of the whip once again, but the tearing and burning sensation of skin being torn asunder didn’t follow. He did not have to bite back a groan as another groan filled the room.</p><p>What? He shifted his gaze towards the new voice.     A voice he knew more than any others.</p><p>“Bertl?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	R

**Author's Note:**

> My word program is a pain so I apologize for spelling errors.  
> I am a sadist, what can I say.  
> Uhmm
> 
> Beating cw, guilt cw, death cw,chains, torture, blood, wounds, infection cw, nightmares cw. I dont know if there's more should be warned? Uhm, graphic depictions of violence, so beware that!  
> LOTS OF CONTENT WARNING

https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=8do-m_LHgJO8FM&tbnid=Pxx7jIpaUnadvM:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.nj-pbem.com%2Fdata%2FGods%2Fhumangods%2FLoviatar.htm&ei=WKttU_OUCsT3oATk8IHABw&bvm=bv.66330100,d.cGU&psig=AFQjCNHQRYwTezoxsLvLR0JmBi6nDjRexg&ust=1399782613954557  
ref for what twas used to later mention

He gained consciousness and found complete darkness. Had he gone blind? Where was he? He opened his eyes and felt his eyelids brush against something soft, some fabric. A blindfold. He moved his hands to remove it, but found them chained tightly to what he could only guess was a post.  
So they had captured him afterall. he only hoped that Bertholdt had managed to escape from the Survey Corps. He had shoved him onward and turned towards them, even as blood poured out from wounds in his lower leg and thigh. He remembered shouting at him and telling him that he would be fine. He would make it. He always made it.     He hoped Bertholdt had listened to him.

“Reiner Braun, do you know why you are here?”

That didn’t sound like any of the Survey Corps he knew, must be somebody new or one of the inner wall officials. The Survey Corps wouldn’t ask questions like this, so he assumed it was just him.

“It would do you good to speak when spoken to and to answer when you are questioned.”

Tell them nothing. If you are ever captured by any of them, you will keep silence even at risk of your life.

They had no leverage over him, his friends were safe but they wouldn’t remain that way for long if he gave them any information.

“Mr. Braun.”  
The words were punctuated with the sharp crack of a whip slicing through the air and accompanied by the sting of the leather as it cut into his flesh. Reiner winced slightly but otherwise showed no outward reaction.

“Mr. Braun, we can do this the easy way or we can do it the hard way.”

CRAAAACK!

There was one crack but he felt two lashes, welts already forming on his back, those welts healing. They came one after another, the crack of one blending into the other and the pain ending where one started but he refused to give them any information. He had given his word not to reveal anything. If it cost him his life, then so be it. He wasn’t proud of what he was doing, none of them were and who would? But he couldn’t give up that information.

Lash came after lash until he could feel the white heat of it as it tore into his flesh, attacking areas that were far less protected. He flinched when one grazed his nape but would not utter a single word. The flashes of white like lighting in the sky, illuminating across his field of vision until almost all the darkness had gone and then, just like that, it stopped.

He waited, anticipating a few seconds before the next blow came but it didn’t come. He heard the slight sound of feet shuffling before the official or whoever they were, spoke again.

“Reiner Braun, I will ask you again. What do you know of the ‘Titan Shifters’?”

He lifted his head in the direction of the voice, defiance raging in his eyes covered behind the thick fabric.

“Very well then. You leave me no choice.”

His body tensed just a second as he heard the crack of the whip once again, but the tearing and burning sensation of skin being torn asunder didn’t follow. He did not have to bite back a groan as another groan filled the room.

What? He shifted his gaze towards the new voice.     A voice he knew more than any others.

“Bertl?”

There was no warning before the next lashing. And the sound of Bertl’s groan filled his ears and his mind.

“Bertl!” He rushed forward, pulling against the cuffs and chains on his wrists. They couldn’t hurt him if they couldn’t get to him. He just had to get over to Bertholdt, but the cuffs chafed against his skin and brought him back, lights rolling across his vision as his head slammed back into the post.  
He could hear the whip slicing through the air, but he ignored it, trying desperately to break free from his restraints and save him. The cold metal cut into his wrists, warm blood flowing down onto them and from the back of his head.  
It wasn’t until he heard a new sound that stopped him. It was the same crack from before, but the moment of impact was different. Instead of the single moment, he counted 9 consecutive blows, metal sliding against itself and the distinct sound of skin tearing after each instant. It was similar to a bomb, dropping and exploding where it landed, but spreading out.  
123456789\. 1234567789. 123456789.  
The white flashes he saw weren’t his own now. He didn’t know what room they were in or if they were even in a room, but wherever they were, the acoustics were over the top. There was no way they would allow him to be anywhere near Bertholdt, but he could hear the tiniest of sounds. He could hear the small hiss, sharp intake of breath as the blades dug into the skin again and again. Sometimes they missed the old spots and left other parts of flesh raw and bleeding, ablaze. Other times he could hear it slide into the groove of old marks, tearing into the tissue and tearing deeper.  
He heard the rustling as Bertholdt moved himself, fighting to keep any further groans from escaping. He heard his shallow breathing in bursts. Then he heard it - the sound of the whip’s blades striking against bone. The whip seemed to cease and Reiner relaxed a moment, hoping that maybe they would stop.  
Three seconds later, he heard it crack through the air with more ferocity than before followed by the sound of bone fracturing.  
He didn’t need his vision to know what was going on. He could clearly visualize it all in his head - Bertholdt, shirtless. There was no sound of metal so Bertholdt must have been there with no resistance. Hunched over, his hair grazed the floor. His back resembled a pie lattice, with bits of flesh here and there still clinging to his bare back, and the tissue and blood bubbling forward. His hair matted with sweat, and sweat dripping down his back, seeping into the open wounds and setting fire to them once again. Bertholdt fighting his hardest not to make a single sound, to convince Reiner that he was fine. So he wouldn’t say a single word.  
“Bertholdt!”  
The word was out before he could stop it. He’d given them too much power. They knew how to stop him; they knew his weakness. He pulled just slightly and immediately regretted it.  
Fragments of bone scattered across the floor then clothes rustling before Bertholdt’s resolve broke and he cried out.  
Reiner could pick out the sound of bits of stone and gravel pressing into an open wound. There was the whump! Of air being forcibly expelled from the lungs, and the sound of the bone connecting with the floor beneath.  
He forced himself to stand completely still.  
“Reiner Braun, that will be all.”  
He expected somebody to come and remove the cuffs from the post, to take off the handcuffs , something, but instead he felt one hand rest on his shoulder and the whrrrrp! of an object flying through the air and hitting him hard in the back of the head before he was unconscious once again.  
The next time he opened his eyes, he could see some light streaming in through a small hole in the brick walls. It stung at his eyes, used to the dar, it took him several minutes before he realized that he was uncuffed and that he was stumbling around a very small room. He glanced around the room and found a rather large mass curled up in the corner.  
He placed one hand gingerly and pulled back just enough to confirm his suspicions. Bits of dirt and gravel still clung to the open wounds. His back didn’t look like somebody had torn the flesh, but rather that somebody had taken frayed bandages and placed them in no particular manner over his back. He cringed at the flesh that had started to wrinkle, the frayed edges which he could only guess at how much they hurt. Then just above his tailbone, he could see the exposed bone, the jagged edges where it cut in. He could see the enflament starting up - the cold air would have been painful enough but all the sweat Bertholdt produced…  
Bertholdt stirred, eyes fluttered open. They took several minutes to focus and as soon as he saw Reiner, Bertholdt jerked away as quickly as he possibly could.  
“Bert-”  
The taller male shook his head, lips in a straight line, not willing to explain himself.  
“Bertl.”  
Another shake of the head.  
Reiner sighed. Had he been wrong? Did Bertholdt want him to speak up and stop all of this? Had he been there, hunched over, carved into a human pie, waiting for Reiner to confess and save him? He extended his hand but when the sweaty male pulled away once again, he let his hand drop.  
Bertholdt curled up, taking up the least amount of space that he could, despite his injured back and closed his eyes.  
Good. Night.  
He nodded, understanding the message. He could find no escape route and from the smell in the air, he could tell that they were underground. Shifting simply wasn’t an option at the moment. He decided to follow after Bertholdt and lied down again and closed his eyes.  
Sleep wouldn’t come. He sat there on what he could only assume was a bit of the brick wall scooped out to make a makeshift bed. It was stiff, uncomfortable, and he couldn’t deny the moisture in the air. His eyes wandered over to the balled up form across the room from him. If he were to lie down sideways, the room wouldn’t be much bigger than two of him, but the distance between the two enveloped the room and invaded his senses until the other wall had rushed away, hundreds of miles away.  
Bertholdt didn’t need to use many words to get his point across, his actions spoke strongly enough. This was rejection. Betrayal. Bertholdt was hurt, not only physically but emotionally - and both of them were all Reiner’s fault.  
They didn’t have anybody else to question. Annie was encased in her crystal. Ymir and Christa had been long gone, and Eren didn’t know enough to give them what they wanted. That left him and Bertholdt, which meant they would be back. He sat up, determined to tell them everything he knew. He would barter with them for Bertholdt’s release. It wouldn’t take back what he had already done, but it would prevent anything more from happening.  
They came in when the sun filtering through the brick wall was at its strongest. He never heard a door open, didn’t hear a single footstep. Just the whrrrp! again and complete darkness.  
He came to, blindfolded again and judging by the clarity of sound, in the same room. The same voice called out his name, it sounded well rested and unchanged.  
“Reiner Braun, what do you know of the Titan Shifters?”  
Other than I am one? That was a vague question.  
“I-”  
“Reiner, no.”  
The voice cut across the room. There was none of the usual nervous edge to it; it was cold and sharp.  
“Berth-”  
The whip cracked again, leather again. Reiner swore he heard a sizzle.  
“You will address only me, Mr. Braun, and you will answer my question. What can you tell us of the Titan Shifters?”  
Now that was better. He gnawed at his lip, facing the direction of Bertholdt’s voice again. He stopped when he felt the gaze on him. He was not to speak a single word.  
He took too long to answer and the whip flew again.  
It struck again. And again. And again.  
It must have been hours before the voice stopped asking questions and Reiner felt a blow to the back of his head again.  
He came to in the same room, free, with the blindfold removed once again. Bertholdt had withdrawn even further into his space, actions unexplained. The lattice on his back had spread; Reiner could make out welts all across his arms as well. They hadn’t healed and the unnatural coloring in the open wounds and the skin surrounding it looked nasty and swollen.  
He yearned to get up and walk over there, but he didn’t have to get closer to see the damage. In under two days. Had it been two days? He could only guess - it’s difficult to judge the passing of time when you have thick fabric over your eyes and your sole focus is on the brutal beating your boyfriend is getting. A boyfriend who hates your guts.  
Two days and they had already torn into his cocyx. There would be no mercy. He bit his lip and watched Bertholdt’s shaky, pained movements as he fidgeted to fix his position. He heard the ragged breaths he drew and with the moisture in the air, the outlook looked grim.  
The next day went almost exactly the same, only when he came to, he found the blindfold was still on. He tugged at it, but was unsuccessful getting it off. He only knew he was in their room because of the stagnant air and the sporadic sound of Bertholdt’s breathing. Unable to see anything but black, he lied down and tried to go back to sleep. He told himself not to imagine Bertholdt. Just count sheep.  
1 sheep. 2 sheep. 3 sheep.  
He left off somewhere around 70 sheep when sleep came to him at last.

That was the first night of the nightmares.

At first he thought he was awake - he heard the same voice, but this time it had a face. A young woman’s face, there was no way she was any older than him or any of the other 104th. But she sat there in stiff clothing, all dressed up, staring drolly (sp.?) at him. It was chilling how she looked at him but yet through him. Her sharply angular face and dark eyes staring him down and reducing him to nothing but the blood coursing through his veins. Chilling those veins. Shutting off the flow. Cutting off his life force.  
Good. End it now.

She sharply turned, that same gaze focusing on something else now. She smiled.

Reiner hadn’t looked anywhere else around the room.

No. No.

Bertholdt was hunched over, handcuffed, face pressed into the dirt by another young person. Their boot rested against the back of his spine. The male holding him down twisted his heel in. At first it looked like they had missed and slid the heel just in between the vertebrae, and he was right. But he was completely wrong about their goal.

They brought their heel back at a 45 degree angle, bringing it against one vertebrae then jarred it forward and with a slight flick brought out a small, but jagged point. A grin spread across their face as they stomped their heel downward, cutting through the skin right in between before jerking it to the right.  
They switched to their other foot, still holding him in place and brought the heel down again, This time lining up with one of the welts from his whippings, tearing open the wound again. Like an artists masterfully stroking the canvas with their paintbrush, Bertholdt’s back became the canvas for the official’s heel.  
He watched the skin pull, watched the tissue and muscles scream.  
He heard all of it happening - as if it was on a speaker. He heard the painful ripppppp that he hadn’t known until now came when flesh tore, heard the hiss of the now infected wounds, and heard Bertholdt’s screams in his ears. Over and over again. They weren’t human words, just sounds. Garbled sounds. A distorted cry.  
Reiner was frozen in place. He willed his limbs to move. The familiar cold touch of the metal was missing; he was free but he was trapped.  
Move, god dammit.  
But that was his curse. He was stuck here, unable to help Bertholdt but what was Bertholdt’s curse?  
He watched Bertholdt much more carefully, saw the sweat drenching his face as he willed himself still to fight back his voice, to fight back the pain. His eyes were clenched tightly, drawn within.  
For a second, Reiner saw Bertholdt glance his way. Half a millisecond then they were closed again. Drawn within themself. Bertholdt visibly receded deeper, the arch in his back further exaggerated.  
He curved and the official’s heel caught again. There was a sickening crunch then Reiner was up and rushing over.  
The official showed no fear at him moving, only moved his heel in one swift movement then backed away into the shadows.  
Reiner dropped to his feet at Bertholdt’s side and cradled him in his arms. He was so light. And so, so pale. Something wet snaked it’s way down his hands. He took one glance to find clear liquid.  
Was it..?  
He averted his gaze to Bertholdt’s face, only to find a rotten skull, webs collected in the eye sockets and worms crawling out of the nose cavity.   Even the skull was littered with marks, dents, and a fracture that spread out much like the other spiderwebs in its eye sockets.  
“Bertl?”  
He could feel the flesh, muscles, and tissue beneath his hands quickly shrink away as he held him, leaving nothing but damaged bones. Bones which then dissolved into dust, leaving Reiner with nothing as a sudden gust of wind blew the sand away and out of the room.

“BERTL!”

He woke up screaming, panting heavily on the ledge in their room, frantically looking around then remembering the blindfold and that it was all just a bad dream.

He quickly changed his mind on that the next day as the Survey Corps members showed no mercy at all. At least in his nightmare, Bertholdt had been given release. But in this, the reality, it was moreso the nightmare. He lost count of the days after a few weeks.

Several weeks, with countless hours spent breaking Bertholdt. Breaking him. They may have broken Wall Maria, but clearly they should have been taking notes from the Survey Corps as they smashed through his patience.

They dragged him in one morning and he waited until that same droll voice asked him.

“What do you know of the Titan Shifters?”

He told them everything. Every last bit. Anything and everything he could possibly drag in to relate. Anything to do to get them to leave Bertholdt alone. Let him go. He would heal, he would be fine without Reiner holding him back. 

“Thank you Mr. Braun.”

For the first time in weeks, and the first time in that room, somebody removed his blindfold.  
“Berthol-”

He hadn’t questioned why Bertholdt hadn’t tried to stop him. But now….

Somebody walked him over from behind, allowing him some freedom of movement with the handcuffs still on. 

Reiner approached the mess in the middle of the room and he didn’t correct himself because that was exactly what it was. A mess. If he hadn’t known that they dragged Bertholdt in there with him each time, there was no other way he would know.  
Hell. He still wasn’t sure that the bundle of liquids, semi- solid shapes and broken bones was Bertholdt.  
How...how did somebody do that? To reduce a 6’ 3” man to an assorted pile of pieces of a man. Where had the other pieces gone?  
But one glance around the room answered that. They had gone everywhere. On the boots of the officials. Mingled in the dirt below. Splattered on walls. Fresh red blood splashed on top of layers of caked blood. They hadn’t done it in the time that he had confessed - no, they had done it over the weeks he had been blindfolded and he had never known.  
But if he had known that they would have done this he would have spoken up ages ago. He would rather that Bertholdt hated him for giving away the information than to knowingly let them murder Bertholdt, slowly and mercilessly over time.  
He shifted his gaze back over to the remains of Bertholdt’s body. A hand reached out and rested on the bones. Caressed them tenderly. Slowly. As if it was memorizing every groove, etching each and every single detail into the owner’s mind. He watched the hand slide down to the ground and lay flat against the sticky red liquid. It lingered there a few seconds before making its way to one of the hands, chunks of flesh still attached. It slided between the gored hand and held it tightly.  
He watched the hand’s strange movements, but it wasn’t until he heard the sound of choked sobs, and felt the raw scratch of his throat, that Reiner realized the hand was his. The tears built up at the corner of his eyes, pinpricks, before the dam was broken and they all came rushing out in a violent frenzy. There was no screaming or shouting. Not then. Just tears. Tears that burned from the moment they came and burned even after they had fallen onto the floor. Tears that came and did not go for a long time, leaving Reiner wondering if maybe he wouldn’t just die of dehydration right then and there.

He hoped so.

But after some time, he wasn’t sure when, they stopped. And despite having a major headache from the pressure of his tears, he was still alive. Well, breathing at least. He was shown back to his room, more uniformed individuals prepared with lead pipes and bats to knock him out if he should resist, but there was no point in resisting now. Where would he run off to? Back home?  
There was no home. Not anymore.

Home had been Bertl. It had always been Bertl. It didn’t matter where, or when, with Bertholdt there was no time or place. Home had been the gleam on his face as he sweated over Reiner’s actions. Home had been the chorus of “Reiner, no”. It had been the nights holding one another and reminding themselves that if they had nobody else, that they had each other. 

But Annie was in her crystal, and Bertholdt dead. He was shoved into his room and heard some mumbled phrases of “food” and “sundown” but they slithered out of his mind as soon as they had entered. He watched the door shut and stood still, not sure what to do.

His eyes betrayed him and glanced over at Bertholdt’s side, a chill ran down his spine. And against his better judgement, he strode over and sat down on what had been Bertholdt’s bed, allowing his hands free reign again as they ghosted the cold rockface. It was several seconds before they caught on a groove, something not naturally part of the area.

He tilted his head slightly and moved past it, only to find another and another.  
“What?”  
He kneeled down on the floor in front of the bed and took a closer look. Where his hands had felt the grooves, he found what looked to be like a shape. No...not a shape. A letter. Several letters!

He grasped the items in his hand, realizing what he held was a human bone. Several human bones. He reached out, checking the area for more, all the while wondering how the bones had been carved into. His other hand clasped around something and he brought it into the light, finding a long, sharpened rib bone in his grasp.  
It hit the floor with a small ttt as it registered. All those nights that Bertholdt had spent hunched over in the bed. He had wondered why he wouldn’t lie down in a straighter position or some way that didn’t press all of his wounds together and he had his answer. But the rib bone, other than the sharpened end, it had been intact. Bertholdt had torn it out. Made a makeshift tool out of it to carve this message. Into his own fractured bones.  
His mind raced, did Bertholdt hate him so much he would cause further damage to himself to remind Reiner even in death? He hesitated placing the bones down, but in the end he found himself lying them out, working to make sure they were in order or what looked to be in order.  
Possibilities rushed through his head: “Reiner, you sick piece of shit” “I hate you” “This is all your fault” “You failed” “I never loved you”. That was just the tip of the iceberg. He came up with thousands of possibilities, but none of them matched the real message:

Reiner-  
I’m sorry for leaving you. If I tell them then they will let you go. I hear your shouts and cries all the time. I can’t take it anymore. I’m sorry, but I can’t be homeless. I can’t lose you. I love you.  
-Bertl

The shouting and yelling hadn’t come earlier. But they came now. He roared, screamed, shouted, slammed his fist against the rock wall until it was riddled with bruises in colors all over the rainbow. He cried out Bertholdt’s name until his voice ran hoarse and then let his body scream for his lost love. And when his body ran out, he found his mind and soul reeling, screaming out in anguish, rage, blame, loss. Screamed and screamed and screamed until he slumped against the wall and unconsciousness washed over him like a wave.

He was woken only to be told that he would be released after all the proper paperwork had been taken care of. They had devised some plan and had no further use for him. He said nothing; he knew release was cover up for their real plan. If he was useless, then they would get rid of him. He didn’t give them so much as a nod.

They left and his mind wandered to Bertholdt’s letter.

If I tell them then they will let you go.

They were letting him go, alright. He would march right into the room where a firing squad would be waiting. At least it would be over like that. He wouldn’t suffer as long as Bertholdt had.

I hear your shouts and cries all the time. I can’t take it anymore.

Reiner wondered what Bertholdt meant by that. They had only gone after him that first day, had he latched onto them so quickly? 

But Bertholdt had always been a man of few words; when he spoke, his words were heavy with meaning. And Reiner found out over the course of the next week just what his words had truly meant.

The nightmares continued, but they didn’t stay in his dreams. They took stabs at him when he woke up, flashing in vivid technicolor before his eyes, always dancing at the corners of his vision. When he peered into the small bits of sunlight streaming in, he saw the warmth in Bertholdt’s smile, and remembered the warmth of their embrace for a few beautiful seconds before it was chased away by images of yellowed bones, fractures flying and landing on the floor. The lightning flash of a whip and the hiss and steam as it hit bare flesh.

Sometimes he saw Bertholdt’s remains lying there, or what he saw at night before the weeks of the blindfold. Other times, he had that first nightmare with Bertholdt dying in his arms and blowing away in the wind. It all began to blur together, all of it felt real. He couldn’t differentiate fiction from reality. All he knew was that Bertholdt was dead.

Uniformed young men and women would come with food, but after the fourth day they stopped coming, greeted with Reiner’s dying form, muscle gone, and bones starting to poke out from starvation. His eyes were sunken and hollow, the only bit of life to them was the small flame that struggled to keep lit - a crazed flame that only illuminated the sickly color. They stuck around long enough to hear him mutter, his eyes seeing something but never them always something far away.  
Reiner might be alive by medical definitions, but he had gone away days ago. The Reiner Bertholdt had known was lost, and locked away by the madness that had consumed the husk.  
Seven days later, they came to drag Reiner off, but all they found when they opened the door was a whisp of the man they had brought in, cradling what looked to be like a human bone, in his arms, and a peaceful smile spread across his face.

**Author's Note:**

> http://astronautrain.tumblr.com/post/90315389428/pie-lattice-2k14-cinnamonriver-likes-to-wound-me  
> my wonderful, WONDERFUL friend drew Bertl baby's back :D  
> PIELATTICE2K14
> 
> i am a terrible person, I am aware.  
> Happy birthday, reiner!


End file.
